


The Uniform

by greenbloodedcomputer



Series: B-4 [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24496126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbloodedcomputer/pseuds/greenbloodedcomputer
Summary: B-4 is finally graduating the Academy, but he doesn't feel he deserves to wear the uniform just yet.
Series: B-4 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769731
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	The Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series of fics written about B-4. These canon-divergent stories depict B-4 after he has been rebuilt by a resurrected Data following the events of Star Trek: Nemesis. 
> 
> This fic was based off the prompt : A memory associated with an article of clothing they have.

The first time B-4 put on his Starfleet uniform was one hour and twenty-three minutes prior to his graduation ceremony. He had received it in his mailbox approximately a week beforehand and it had sat, folded perfectly, in its flimsy, plastic bag, untouched. 

When B-4 looked at the uniform, ominously perched on a chair in the corner of his room, he felt conflicted. His first notion was to believe he didn’t deserve to wear it at all. While he had done well academically, the qualities of a Starfleet officer went well beyond test grades. At the same time, he also felt overwhelming pride, something that was foreign to him and hurt in his chest like anxiety. He had made it through the Academy, something he hadn’t thought possible. 

The fabric felt familiar. The same polyester blend graced every Starfleet officer. He remembered fine-tuning motor skills and grasping the sleeve of Bruce Maddox’s uniform to prevent from falling, feeling the vast expanse of the back of Data’s uniform in a quick embrace, the brushing of superior officers’ uniforms during medical exercises - and yet somehow the one in his hands felt so foreign. 

When he put it on for the first time, he felt oddly professional, as if his cadet uniform had been too childlike. The shade of blue varied slightly from one to the other. It zipped up slightly higher on his neck. 

“I am proud of you,” Data said as he affixed the single pip to B-4’s collar. “You have done a wonderful job at the Academy. Have you decided what you will talk about in your speech?”

B-4 nodded. He had spent thirty-seven hours re-writing his valedictorian speech before finally settling one a version he liked. “Yes,” he said. “I believe you will enjoy it.” 

Data and B-4 grinned at one another - nearly a mirror image save for the uniforms - and Data ran his hand over the front of his brother’s uniform to press out any wrinkles. “You will no doubt do an admirable job.” 

B shook his head. “I don’t want to give a speech, Data,” he said quietly. “They don’t care what I have to say. Most of those people hate me anyway.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Data countered. “I find it difficult to believe anyone genuinely hates you.”

“Then they _strongly dislike_ me.” 

Data considered this for a moment before saying, “Then use your opportunity on the stage to let them know.” 

“Know what?

“You know they dislike you, and you do not care.” 

But he _did_ care…and he also understood Data’s point. He nodded curtly. 

“You will be fine, Brother,” Data assured him. 

B-4 crossed the stage at graduation, shoulder’s clenched with the weight of stress, chest tight from anxiety. He arrived at the podium and trained his gaze to the polished wood long enough to take a deep breath. When he raised his eyes to the audience, he was immediately drawn to Data. Naturally, he stuck out - gold skin and eyes against a sea of a natural palette. He expected Data to sit near the front, arms folded in his lap, eyes bright with pride and anticipation. What he did not expect to see was Geordie, sat just beside him, beaming. Picard, to the other side, one leg crossed over the other, anticipatory grin on his features. Dr. Crusher to his right, smiling knowingly. Bruce to her right, eyebrows raised expectantly. He leaned forward slightly - a cue that B-4 should begin speaking. 

His heart swelled and he felt a wave of emotion he had never felt before. There was no time to process it before it wiped out any feeling of anxiety. “I apologize,” he said into the microphone. His voice echoed over the hall, filling the air. “I’m experiencing an unfamiliar…sensation. I believe it is…” He ran through a search of positive emotional traits in his head and settled on the appropriate one. “Empowerment.” 

There were a few responses from the crowd that seemed supportive. B-4 smiled and took a deep breath. “Good afternoon to the graduating class of 2385, esteemed professors and colleagues, and honoured officers. I am Cadet B-4. This afternoon we gather for a tremendous occasion - to celebrate the successes we have accomplished during our time at the Academy. I’d like to share part of my story with you in hopes that we may empathize with one another as we leave this environment and these experiences we have in common to move onto our new assignments in the field.” He paused, a pre-determined place to allow for his audience a break, and then continued. “I’d like to begin by speaking about my brother, without whom I would not be here today.”


End file.
